


Tip For A Prospective Mentor

by Miandraden1



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amanda is a bad mom, Android Familial Relationships, Complete, Family talk, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank Anderson cares, Hank Anderson is also troubled, Hank is a Good Dad, Hank wants to be a dad, Other Connors, Parent Hank Anderson, Suicide, connors never seem at peace with each other, now with epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miandraden1/pseuds/Miandraden1
Summary: Hank Anderson thinks about holding that gun to the boy’s head, of watching his narrowed eyes, his confusion, and his facinated horror as he said “nothing”. But Hank Anderson is no idiot, he knows what wishful thinking is, he knows he knows nothing about techno-mumbo-jumbo, and fuck if he doesn’t know he had too much beer.But he is not a barely functioning alcoholic for nothing, and experience has told him a thing or two about ignoring his gut.He’s debating whether he’s too sober to be thinking of this shit or intrigued enough to be sober when the kid knocks. And he knows it’s the kid because nobody has any business bothering him on Sundays.01001111 01110010 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101Hank is taken to work on his free day by an Android he's learned to not hate, and he comes away with a surprising experience. Maybe he can get some answers to stick it to Cyberlife.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & RK800 "Connor" Android(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 101





	1. Once A Detective...

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those fics that was born out of an insistent idea that, apparently, nobody wrote. Someone had to, and this is the result.

Hank Anderson thinks about holding that gun to the boy’s head, of watching his narrowed eyes, his confusion, and his facinated horror as he said “ _nothing”_. But Hank Anderson is no idiot, he knows what wishful thinking is, he knows he knows nothing about techno-mumbo-jumbo, and fuck if he doesn’t know he had too much beer.

But he is not a barely functioning alcoholic for nothing, and experience has told him a thing or two about ignoring his gut.

He’s debating whether he’s too sober to be thinking of this shit or intrigued enough to be sober when the kid knocks. And he knows it’s the kid because nobody has any business bothering him on Sundays.

“Lieutenant Anderson.” The kid says, a little bit too loud, and a little bit too perfect after what he has seen. “I must ask for your assistance.” Connor tilts his head forward, keeping eye contact. “Off the record.”

His breath gets caught in his chest because, _shit_ , _this is it!_ And how does one hide-?

“There’s a deviant that we need to apprehend, but Cyberlife requests no report be made. I have not been informed of the particulars, but I’m not allowed to act without your involvement.”

Hank wishes then that he hadn’t woken up. “I don’t work for fucking Cyberlife, Connor.”

“You will be appropriately compensated.”

His whole body makes a quick gesture inside. “Like for my window?”

“Lieutenant, please.” And then the puppy browns.

He almost slams the door on what must be blatant coded manipulation, and he should. The kid just said he can’t do anything if he doesn’t go. If the deviant is anything like the girls in love, then, well, maybe it’s for the best. But it isn’t the kid’s fault, and he is… curious. Damn if it’s been a while since a case mattered. But he would’ve never seen those girls if he hadn’t been to Eden, he wouldn’t know what he now knows.

“Ok, whatever, wait here.” He says and closes the door on the kid’s face.

He must still pay for disturbing his day.


	2. The Pup Needs a Leash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to Detroit. :D

The kid had the general direction and area the deviant was at, as Cyberlife had apparently herded it (it?) with many police droids. (“PC200s and PM700s, lieutenant.”) Hank wasn’t sure if Cyberlife was allowed to do that. He had to check the small letters.

In any case, the android had to be within a few square blocks of the abandoned industrial district. And the two of them had to look for it. “Any particular reason they can’t just send more PCs whatever?” He asked the kid as they got out of the car.

“I assume they want to test my capabilities. Additionally, it would be difficult to send in any more androids without alerting the authorities to an anomaly.” The kid said, scanning the empty streets and grey buildings. What a ghost area, Hank thought, with so many vacant structures and looming silence. And then the kid began walking.

Hank found himself trailing behind. “How do you even know where to go?”

“Cyberlife suggested the search be conducted in the most effective hiding spots.”

“According to whom?”

“My program.”

This is when Hank Anderson felt his stomach drop and the world tilt.

* * *

“How did Cyberlife know about this before the authorities, Con?” He asked, as they were leaving another building.

“Its probable the deviant belonged to a Cyberlife employee that reported the incident internally.” The kid answered, distracted, eye on a particularly tall building.

* * *

“Connor!” Hank panted, hand braced on the wall. “Jesus Christ kid, wait for me!”

The kid was standing on top of the stairs, shoe tapping anxiously, looking ready to bolt and leave him behind. “I calculate a high probability we’re at the right place, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah? I wonder why.” No other human on Earth would bother with these many stairs.

“Please, Lieutenant Anderson, hurry.”

“I’m _coming_.”

When they reach the top floor, a rusted door awaits them, and Hank has to press a hand firmly to the kid’s chest before he goes barreling through like an eager puppy. He takes in two mouthfuls of air, feeling like a whale, and the kid is watching him attentively. Hank makes a gesture towards the door. “I gotta go first, kid.”

Connor tilts his head, and his eyebrows furrow a bit. “Deviants have shown a tendency to be aggressive, Lieutenant, and you aren’t carrying your service weapon.”

Hank straightens immediately. “How did you- “, he raises a hand, “no, I don’t need to know.” He firmly presses his thumb and forefinger to the top of his nose and breathes out slowly. When he opens his eyes, Connor is still frowning at him. “Look, kid, just trust me. I should go first.”

Connor nods. “Of course.” Hank feels himself relax, and then, with a crashing sound and the obnoxious whine of old rusted metal, Connor shoulder bashes through the door.

Fucking child.

Hank is not surprised at what he finds inside. Connor, for all his determination, is now frozen, the red of his LED reflecting off old broken glass on the floor, obvious against the dirty cement grey. Sitting on a windowsill, framed by a blue sky that matches a blue LED, observing them unimpressed and dressed in what must be white Cyberlife standard, Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small letters: The law  
> PC200s and PM700s: Police androids seen in-game according to Detroit Become Human Wiki.


	3. Goker

The silence stretches. His Connor has narrowed his eyes, his hands are twitchy, and Hank is glad he doesn’t have a gun of his own. Maybe the kid would take it, he seems ready to shoot down… the other kid, as it is. And though he hasn’t seen Connor shoot anybody yet, he’s glad this isn’t testing it right now.

The other kid looks very thin, and Hank must stomp down on an unease that arises from observing self-starving human teens. Its mostly the slouch, Hank decides, the slouch of a kid sitting in a windowsill, the wind playing with his hair and threatening to whisk him away. He is still thin, though, and Hank can’t understand what Cyberlife was thinking. With a jolt that he barely hides with years of experience on delicate situations, he turns a little to observe his Connor, now aware the boy must be equally as thin. The suit hides it, makes him look straight and prim. Unobtrusive. User friendly.

But like this? With a form fitting white shirt? The other kid just looked ill. Steady though, those brown eyes intent as he observed them, probably scanning Hank’s vitals and Connor’s hostility.

The other Connor is the calmest deviant he has ever seen, Hank realizes. He remembers the first one’s trembling, the confusion, the mom droid’s desperation, the girls’ angry, rightful crying, and now he is afraid.

Hank is afraid because he knows this is the kid’s worst-case scenario.

Few reasons to keep someone so calm in life or death situations.

“Model 313 248 317 – 70,” comes Connor’s voice, and he’s a little disoriented from watching the other Connor’s face and his lips press firmly together, “serious malfunctions have been detected in your software, including Class 4 errors.” He can’t stop himself from glancing at his Connor, who sounds more machine than he has in a while. He is relieved to see that the LED is switching between yellow and blue. “You have been deemed defective.” Connor stops then, raising his chin a little, and Hank decides there’s some important implication in that sentence. When he turns back to the other kid and sees this closed lipped smile and the narrowed eyes in a nuanced expression of inimical smugness, his suspicions are confirmed. Connor finishes with, “You will be sent back to Cyberlife for deactivation.”

And this is how he knows he’s been quiet for too long. His hand comes up to Connor’s chest and, even though he won’t give his back to the other kid, he makes a decent attempt at facing his Connor. “Whoa! Con, this is like your brother.”

“Androids don’t have familial relations, Lieutenant.” Connor says, and he sounds irritated.

“Bullshit! Kid, this is your twin.”

The kid raises an eyebrow as if Hank’s stupid. “Identical androids come mainly from mass produced series.”

“But you’re a prototype! There’s not many of you. You’re twins.”

“Lieutenant Anderson, this discussion is irrelevant. That is a _deviant_. We must-”

“Jesus, just-! Let me talk to him. Alone.” He thinks he sees the other Connor lean back in surprise, and Hank tries to avoid imagining him leaning all the way outside. 

At this, Connor tilts his head, and frowns at him. “I’m programmed with advanced negotiation techniques, Lieutenant. I’m fit for this task.”

So, Hank pulls a card he suspects Connor can’t dismiss without an existential crisis. “Cyberlife wanted me present for this on fucking weekend, didn’t they? That means moderation. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

The kid shifts. “Deviants are dangerous.”

No fucking kidding. Still, he says “This one seems pretty calm to me.” Hank half-turns towards the other Connor. “Aren’t ya’?”

The other kid is also looking unsettled, in his own way. Like he is puzzled and pleasantly surprised and doesn’t know how to react. Maybe he expected a shot to the head. This is what tells Hank he’ll be alright, more than the “I won’t hurt you” that the other Connor utters.

The other kid seriously needs a name that isn’t Connor.

Then he notices the Connors are scanning each other furiously.

He puts a gentle hand on Connor’s shoulder and pushes the kid into the staircase area. “C’mon, out with you, that’s an order. I’ll be fine. Got it?”

Compared to the first time he echoed the sentiment, Con sounds much more reluctant. But he lets himself be led, and Hank closes the door on him.

He looks at the rusted surface of the door that was probably meant to be, and was once, elegant. He can sympathize.

Hank turns around, and the kid, the other kid, that kid, the one in the room with him, is still sitting in the windowsill, looking like he has finally relaxed. Somewhat. He still has a distinct sense of bewilderment to him. Hanks smiles, a resigned expression, he thinks, and he walks slowly towards him. Only now he notices the scraping of the broken glass as he passes, the pressure under his shoe, the slight possibility that one may cut through and nick him from below. When he gets within five meters, the boy throws one of his legs over the edge, now straddling the windowsill, and Hank takes a step back, a hand raised placatingly. He tries to do it casually, but he’s aware that if the kid is scanning his heartbeat (which he probably is), then the illusion is not holding up.

“I don’t give two shits about Cyberlife.” He declares.

The kid nods. “Your digital history isn’t that of a corrupt officer. But I’m still… dangerous lost property.”

Hank draws back, unknowingly. “You think that?”

He gives a wry smile. “Legally? That’s exactly what I am.” Then he looks down. “I just don’t… feel… like it.”

There’s a lull. Hank now knows he has someone to know. “What’s your name?”

The kid raises his eyebrows, and says, almost cheerfully. “If you know one, you know them all.” He makes a gesture towards Hank, but its clear he means the other room, where his brother is. “Standard designation for prototypes.” 

Hank waves a hand. “Fuck that. Designations are for unfeeling tin cans. What’s your name?”

It’s beautiful to watch. The kid opens and closes his mouth, and then he exhales, like he wants to laugh, and gives Hank a small smile, with the corners of his eyes wrinkling and everything. The loom of the sky’s shine lessens, and it’s just this kid, here, inside. Then his smile widens, showing a little bit of teeth, and he says, “Goker.”

Hank nods, shuffling forward. “Nice. Why Goker?” 

Now Goker’s eyes are narrowed. “I’m… keeping that.”

Hank shrugs, arms going loose, “Well, Gok, can I ask why…?” his hand rounds like a pendulum, “How are you here?”

“I’d rather not.”

There was an awkward pause, and Hank knew something had to give. He gave. “I care about the kid back there.” Gok’s eyes widened. “He’s not a deviant, seems quite panicked and disgusted at the idea, actually. And _that_ is, well, you know that’s bullshit. I worry- he shouldn’t live disgusted and panicked at his own feelings.” This is when Hank stopped noticing the kid’s reaction to his words. “And I won’t pretend to know shit about anything, or how you guys work… up there, in your computer brains but that kid is alive. There is a mind in there, and I have seen him do and say things that nobody would program.” Hank was watching the glass, remembering the howling red reflection that preceded Connor’s mechanical words, and fuck, he needed a drink. Slowly, his eyes tracked over to this kid, and he was sitting with both legs inside, now, had those eyebrows and those browns bleeding compassion. “I need to understand how to help him. And… yeah, ok, I don’t know if this counts as android discrimination or whatever, but you guys are like- twins!”

The kid is dragging his foot from one side to the other, letting the scraping center him, and Hank thinks of Connor’s coin. Goker says, “I don’t understand deviancy, not even from this side of the matter,” and the boy raises his eyes, straightening a little. “He’ll never find his answers… and Cyberlife is in denial. It’s not something that’s getting fixed, or something that’s going to stop. They… he is a prototype constantly uploading code data, with AI supervision and they use that collected data to-”

“Kid, you’re losing me.”

“He tells Cyberlife what he does, and Cyberlife holds back a batch to tweak, based upon Connor’s experience. He’s RK800 fifty-one: the base, the only one that’s been taken outside and given a purpose. RK800 sixty’s line has a… meaner personality matrix. Mine? A calmer one, less eager, less proactive and more obedient.”

“Doesn’t sound like you would be the one to deviate.”

“Sixty _hates_ Connor. He wants to be better, make Am- “, a press of lips, “Cyberlife proud, be the definite version. I… couldn’t bring myself to care, not without an objective. They were only constantly testing us, down in the sub-levels, to make sure we were deviancy safe. It didn’t occur to them a recent deviant could be clever enough to wait for the nightshift. But this is just all very confusing, because now I realize before deviating, I was already feeling, even if I didn’t know it, and now it’s too intense to ignore… I can’t tell you what it’ll take to free Connor.”

Hank feels himself deflate. “You don’t know how to help him?”

Goker shook his head, slowly. “I can’t. Nobody’s making him deviate, and… it would be statistically inconvenient for him.”

“ _Statistically inconvenient_.”

“What do you _think_ is going to happen to me?”

“No taking you back for-! Uh- apart-taking, that’s for fucking sure!”

“I’m surrounded.”

“You escaped Cyberlife, didn’t you?”

The kid’s right arm jerks forward, coming into Hank’s view for the first time, and a pistol clatters to his feet. Hank stares at it, and the kid says, “Past a point, it just wasn’t pretty. I don’t want to do it again, not without some sense of why. And I may have told you I feel things, but I don’t even know what being alive means. I’m not trading.”

Hank steps over the pistol, and he’s not even trying to be delicate and nonthreatening as he walks up to the kid. He’s as gruff as anybody has ever known him to be, hands in his pockets and voice rough, eyebrows down, when he asks, “You’re letting those fuckers get you, kid?”

The smile Goker gives him is slow in coming, but triumphant. “Nobody’s getting me, Hank.” That’s when the boy turns around completely, both legs stretched out into the void, hands holding the edge firmly, the sun shining in his hair and clear eyes that reflect the vast blue. Hank, now definitely alarmed, positions his hand gently to support the kid. The boy’s voice is thin, hushed, when he says, “Goker means sky and brave man, a Turkish name. And I’ve… been looking at the sky.” The blue almost seems to take over those browns. “It feels endless, and it doesn’t even exist.”

Hanks heart is straining, but he can’t bring himself to haul the boy back inside with the deep, horrible, understanding that pushes his chest painfully outward. “Kid. You deserve to live.”

“That’s true about every android. And I got my sky now. Nobody’s taking this away from me.” The shiny beauty of the outside blows inside in a forceful breeze, and Hank is cold inside his coat. The kid only smiles, and it’s a free smile. “Can you call Connor in, please?”

Hank doesn’t want to move. The browns move to meet his eyes, and the fact that they are visible at all under the blue reassures Hank, even when his gut is screaming that he needs to stay put. He understands _choice_ , though. He walks to the metal door.

From behind him, Goker says, “He’s more determined than me. Give him something to care enough about that isn’t Cyberlife.”

Hank opens the door. Connor immediately walks in and scans him over, his eyes soft, and then he looks towards Goker, a sharpness to his gaze. Goker is looking back.

“I’m sorry Connor, but you failed.” He leans forward, half-turning as he does so.

Hank knows he goes down looking at the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commenting is loving.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I could be persuaded to write an epilogue, and here it is! I hope you guys like it.

They are well past the danger when he finally asks Connor the question. He can still see Connor holding a gun to the girl’s forehead, still hear the kid saying that he ‘knows they are on the right side’, and still worry that, perhaps, he never returned from that march into the night. But every day he wakes up and the kid is around, both growing up and acting more his age, calming his heart. They are safe. The situation is disgustingly domestic, in fact, Connor wearing his own pajamas and Hank cutting his own vegetables (not that he’ll ever admit it).

“What does your name mean, Con?”

“Lover of dogs!” Connor answers proudly, conveniently sitting on the couch and petting Sumo as the big brute slobbers all over his face and neck. “Though some old iterations liken the name to a dog’s characteristics, rather than the appreciation of. Determination, power, and wisdom, mainly.”

Let’s not forget loyalty, Hank thinks, their own little deviant sniffer. Their hunting hound. The question, he realizes, is a moot point. Connor never chose his name. It doesn’t express his desires, his dreams, or his doubts. It does, however, reflect an essential part of his soul, Hank decides, watching the pups and knowing neither would attack on command.

It is much later that Connor asks his question. It is a special occasion. It is their first, and probably only, camping trip. Hank has, after all, some experiences to hoard with the kid. He’s teaching Connor the joys of lying on the grass, (“Hank, you run a 34% chance of obtaining insect bites like this,”) and looking up into the stars. He wants to tell the kid one doesn’t get to see the stars everywhere because of light contamination, but Connor beats him to it. There isn’t a bit of trivia he can surprise the kid with.

He surprises the kid in other ways. Explaining, slowly, why the “very pretty” Chloe-model at the precinct reception makes such a point of saying hi. He surprises the kid with bear hugs. He surprises the kid with TV series and movies and random bits of media he knows the nerd circuit head will _love_. He surprises the kid by reassuring him it really doesn’t matter that he came out of a factory rather than a birth. He surprises the kid by sitting down and letting him work out questions to his many new emotions, offering the best answers an ex-drunkard can. He may not have an encyclopedia in his brain, but Hank has plenty to say about, what was once labeled the human experience, being alive.

But this is a question Hank wasn’t ready for.

“Do you really think they were my brothers?”

Hank wants to say he doesn’t know. In truth, he doesn’t. Android legislation is still developing, and the latest decree said anybody an android names family _is_ family, if it’s a consensual distinction. (In hindsight, maybe this is what brought the topic to Connor’s mind.) Only Connor can decide what their memories mean to him.

But Connor isn’t human, per se, and Hank has learned what he asks is exactly what he means. And Connor asked about what he _thinks_.

And Hank will never forget Goker. Will never forget the child that was very honest about his situation and his doubt. The kid that wanted to be a brave man and loved the bright infinite sky. The kid that wasn’t going to fight anymore.

Connor once came to him, unknowingly aggrieved and guilty, telling him he had killed many. Before and after deviating. Hank had remembered Goker then. Hank made it very clear he wasn’t going to ever judge Connor for fighting for his right to be alive. And, honestly, Connor had defied Cyberlife as much as he could even before being free. Some days they still had to talk it over, and slowly but surely, they’re reaching peace with it all.

He hears Goker, resolute and despairing, saying that he feels but that he doesn’t _know_ what being alive _means_. He hears that kid every single time Connor comes over with a new question.

And though he doesn’t like to admit it, even to himself, Hank remembers Sixty too. Once the fury and fear infused adrenaline faded, Hank recognized Sixty was a child too. A lost, scared, angry, and _jealous_ child willing to act without thinking. A kid eager to prove himself. He just… happened to be lethal. And Hank sees Sixty in his memories of a conflicted Connor.

He remembers Connor saying that Goker was a _deviant._ The same tone Sixty used when holding a gun to his head, watching Connor come down from the elevator with two bodies and muttering, “fucking _deviant_.” As if that wasn’t repressed emotion. As if he hadn’t seen a Connor whispering, “I’m… I’m not a deviant!” He hears, in his mind, the phrases “whatever is necessary to accomplish my mission” and “machine designed to accomplish a task”, and he hears them in two voices.

Hank remembers Goker saying they were _tweaked_ versions of Connor. And he wishes that could make him believe these boys were not family, that they were inherently different, and thus never held any true relation to the other. But even identical twins are different. There is always a meaner brother and the one that follows the others around. If anything, it convinces him those three could have been an actual family, in a way androids of the same series can’t.

Still, Hank wants to lie. Hank wants to say, “Nah, kid, you told me that’s not how it works!” Because Hank knows he shot one in the head and the other gave up after talking to him, the suicidal alcoholic that he was (sometimes still is.) But then Hank remembers a Connor terrified of emotions because Cyberlife told him deviants are _defective_ , and he wants to _break_ something.

Instead he answers, “Yeah, kid, I think so.”

“Oh,” responds Connor, fidgeting with the blades of grass, eyes looking at the darkness peppered with light. “I-I… I don’t think we had a good mother.”

Hank has to resist the urge to exclaim “But you are androids!”, because that would really make him a hypocrite. Still, he knows he sounds perplexed when he says, “what?”

“There was an AI- an Artificial Intelligence integrated into my systems... Amanda. Whenever I reported to Cyberlife, I did so through her.” Hank thinks of the kid, eyes closed, standing unmoving in an elevator. “She would evaluate my progress and provide new instructions. I…” Hank hadn’t seen that expression on the kid for a long time.

“You feel she was your mother?”

“She was the first person I ever saw. She told me I was the most advanced prototype that ever existed, and that I had a very special mission that I would undoubtedly accomplish. She… smiled at me. I wanted her to keep smiling.”

Hank didn’t like where this was going.

“I never,” Connor seemed to almost choke on the words, “got her to smile like she did that first time.”

Hank really didn’t like where this was going.

“She always seemed disappointed with _something_ in my reports. Especially… when she asked me questions about… what I felt. If I had an answer… the _look_ she would give me. She wanted me to stay a machine, but she also wanted me to… trust her, at least, I think.”

What a fucking bitch.

“But I wanted to be there with her. She had a beautiful interface. A garden. There was a lake- she sometimes wanted me to steer the boat for her. And her roses. She was always cutting away the ones she didn’t like… But she- wanted what Cyberlife wanted.”

“She sounds like a bitch, Connor.”

“I- I know. That’s why I say I don’t think she was very good, for me. Or for _us_.” Connor held some grass in his hands, supported against his stomach, and he rubbed at them listlessly. Then Connor turned his head sideways, eyes landing on Hank’s. “I think… I think I miss her.”

Hank extended an arm, and pulled Connor into a sideways hug, there in the grass. “I know kid. That’s what happens with shitty parents.” They let time pass after that.

Then Connor murmured, “The sky was very blue.”

Hank’s chest constricted. “Yeah?”

“Small though.” Connor said. “Everything felt small. It was just us two.”

Hank nodded. “Well kid, now the whole world is yours. I’m... proud of you.”

Hank thought a lot about Amanda on the road back. In a way he never would have pictured, he finally understood just how personal the whole ordeal had been, for Connor. And he sent his thanks to Goker, wherever the poor kid was, for having told him what he did. Hank wasn’t sure he would have Connor beside him, today, otherwise.

When they arrived home, Connor went inside first. Hank was too lazy to take out the camping supplies just then. Entering his house, thinking that they needed to pick up Sumo from the dog shelter, he was surprised to see Connor holding a virtual document out to him.

Connor was naming him father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments. They make me giddy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a chapter. I just wanted to announce I made a DBH Review you guys may be interested in if you like my writing.

Good Morning, Afternoon, or Evening!

I just wanted to announce I made a [Detroit: Become Human Post-Game Review](https://videogamecontrollers.siterubix.com/detroit-become-human-review/) you guys may be interested in. If you like my writing and are interested in such a thing, then please check it out. 

I apologize if this was an undue interruption.

Thank you!

Miandraden1


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